PS 2649 
.P5 P16 
1920 
Copy 2 





Class PS 2-649 
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CQEXRIGHT DEPOSIT 



THIS EDITION IS LIMITED TO 

THREE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SEVEN 

COPIES 

OF WHICH THIS IS 

NO 



O. HENRYANA 



.«c<* 



O . HENRY ANA 



SEVEN ODDS AND ENDS 
POETRY AND SHORT STORIES 

BY 

O. HENRY/ 




GARDEN CITY NEW YORK 

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
1920 



w & 






A 






DEC -6 IS20 



COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY . 
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED* INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION 
INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN 



£- 



6>C!.A601867 



ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

For permission to republish much 
of the material contained in this vol- 
ume, the publishers are indebted to 
Cosmopolitan, Everybody's Magazine, 
Town Topics and the Youth's Com- 
panion. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Crucible 3 

A Lunar Episode .... 5 

Three Paragraphs ... 8 

Bulger's Friend .... 13 

A Professional Secret . . 34 

The Elusive Tenderloin . . 64 

The Struggle of the Outliers 75 



O . HENRY 

ANA 



THE CRUCIBLE 

HARD ye may be in the tumult, 
Red to your battle hilts, 
Blow give for blow in the foray, 
Cunningly ride in the tilts; 
But when the roaring is ended, 

Tenderly, unbeguiled, 
Turn to a woman a woman's 
Heart, and a child's to a child. 

Test of the man, if his worth be 

In accord with the ultimate plan, 
That he be not, to his marring, 

Always and utterly man; 
That he bring out of the tumult, 

Fitter and undefiled, 
To a woman the heart of a woman, 

To children the heart of a child- 



O. HENRYANA 

Good when the bugles are ranting 

It is to be iron and fire; 
Good to be oak in the foray, 

Ice to a guilty desire. 
But when the battle is over 

(Marvel and wonder the while) 
Give to a woman a woman's 

Heart, and a child's to a child. 



A LUNAR EPISODE 

THE scene was one of supernat- 
ural weirdness. Tall, fantas- 
tic mountains reared their 
seamed peaks over a dreary waste of 
igneous rock and burned-out lava 
beds. Deep lakes of black water 
stood motionless as glass under 
frowning, honey-combed crags, 
from which ever and anon dropped 
crumbled masses with a sullen 
plunge. Vegetation there was none- 
Bitter cold reigned and ridges of 
black and shapeless rocks cut the 
horizon on all sides. An extinct 
volcano loomed against a purple 
sky, black as night and old as the 
world. 



O. HENRYANA 

The firmament was studded with 
immense stars that shone with a 
wan and spectral light. Orion's 
belt hung high above. 

Aldebaran faintly shone millions 
of miles away, and the earth gleamed 
like a new-risen moon with a lurid, 
blood-like glow. 

On a lofty mountain that hung 
toppling above an ink-black sea 
stood a dwelling built of stone. 
From its solitary window came a 
bright light that gleamed upon the 
misshapen rocks. The door opened 
and two men emerged locked in a 
deadly struggle. 

They swayed and twisted upon the 
edge of the precipice, now one gain- 
ing the advantage, now the other. 

Strong men they were, and stone 

rolled from their feet into the valley 

as each strove to overcome the other. 

. At length one prevailed. He 

6 



A LUNAR EPISODE 

seized his opponent, and raising him 
high above his head, hurled him into 
space. 

The vanquished combatant shot 
through the air like a stone from a 
catapult in the direction of the 
luminous earth. 

"That's three of 'em this week," 
said the Man in the Moon as he lit a 
cigarette and turned back into the 
house. "Those New York inter- 
viewers are going to make me tired 
if they keep this thing up much 
longer." 



THREE PARAGRAPHS 

COPY," yelled the small boy 
at the door. The sick woman 
lying on the bed began to 
move her fingers aimlessly upon the 
worn counterpane. Her eyes were 
bright with fever; her face, once 
beautiful, was thin and pain drawn. 
She was dying, but neither she nor 
the man who held her hand and 
wrote on a paper tablet knew that 
the end was so near. 

Three paragraphs were lacking to 
fill the column of humorous matter 
that the foreman had sent for. The 
small pay it brought them barely 
furnished shelter and food. Medi- 
cine was lacking but the need for 
that was nearly over. 
8 



THREE PARAGRAPHS 

The woman's mind was wandering; 
she spoke quickly and unceasingly, 
and the man bit his pencil and 
stared at the pad of paper, holding 
her slim, hot hand. 

"Oh, Jack; Jack, papa says no, I 
cannot go with you. Not love you! 
Jack, do you want to break my 
heart? Oh, look, look! the fields are 
like heaven, so filled with flowers. 
Why have you no ice? I had ice 
when I was at home. Can't you 
give me just a little piece, my throat 
is burning?" 

The humourist wrote: "When a 
man puts a piece of ice down a girl's 
back at a picnic, does he give her the 
cold shoulder?" 

The woman feverishly put back the 
loose masses of brown hair from her 
burning face. 

"Jack, Jack, I don't want to die! 
Who is that climbing in the window? 



ij 
W; :\t. 

The quk 

:, Jack, I 
l feel the water cv 

Hon queer it - be 

de. id* an. 

The hum 
de* re — • 

again. bed in half an 

bit hi> 

he held was gtowi 
.rely fa er mus: 

g now, a li: 

ed 
at her nru and her : 

sed om 
"TheN told hm 
apd sadly, "that har. 



THREE PARAGRAPHS 

fering would come upon me for dis- 
obeying my parents and marrying 
Jack. Oh, dear, my head aches so 
I can't think. No, no, the white 
dress with the lace sleeves, not that 
black, dreadful thing! Sailing, sail- 
ing, sailing, where does this river go? 
You are not Jack, you are too cold 
and stern. What is that red mark 
on your brow? Come, sister, let's 
make some daisy chains and then 
hurry home, there is a great black 
cloud above us — I'll be better in the 
morning, Jack, if you'll hold my 
hand tight. Jack, I feel as light as a 
feather — I'm just floating, floating, 
right into the cloud and I can't feel 
your hand. Oh, I see her now, and 
there is the old love and tenderness 
in her face. I must go to her, Jack. 
Mother, mother! 

The man wrote quickly: 

11 A woman generally likes her hus- 
1 1 



O. HENRYANA 

band's mother-in-law the best of all 
his relatives/' 

Then he sprang to the door, 
dashed the column of copy into the 
boy's hand, and moved swiftly to 
the bed. 

He put his arm softly under the 
brown head that had suffered so 
much, but it turned heavily aside. 

The fever was gone. The humour- 
ist was alone. 



12 



BULGER'S FRIEND 

IT WAS rare sport for a certain 
element in the town when old 
Bulger joined the Salvation 
Army. Bulger was the town's odd 
"character/' a shiftless, eccentric old 
man, and a natural foe to social 
conventions. He lived on the bank 
of a brook that bisected the town, in a 
wonderful hut of his own contriving, 
made of scrap lumber, clapboards, 
pieces of tin, canvas and corrugated 
iron. 

The most adventurous boys cir- 
cled Bulger's residence at a respect- 
ful distance. He was intolerant of 
visitors, and repelled the curious with 
belligerent and gruff inhospitality. 

*3 



O. HENRYANA 

In return, the report was current that 
he was of unsound mind, something 
of a wizard, and a miser with a vast 
amount of gold buried in or near his 
hut. The old man worked at odd 
jobs, such as weeding gardens and 
whitewashing; and he collected old 
bones, scrap metal and bottles from 
alleys and yards. 

One rainy night when the Salva- 
tion Army was holding a slenderly 
attended meeting in its hall, Bulger 
had appeared and asked permission 
to join the ranks. The sergeant in 
command of the post welcomed the 
old man with that cheerful lack of 
prejudice that distinguishes the 
peaceful militants of his order. 

Bulger was at once assigned to the 
position of bass drummer, to his 
evident, although grimly expressed, 
joy. Possibly the sergeant, who had 
the success of his command at heart, 



BULGER'S FRIEND 

perceived that it would be no mean 
token of successful warfare to have 
the new recruit thus prominently 
displayed, representing, as he did, if 
not a brand from the burning, at 
least a well-charred and sap-dried 
chunk. 

So every night, when the Army 
marched from its quarters to the 
street corner where open-air services 
were held, Bulger stumbled along 
with his bass drum behind the ser- 
geant and the corporal, who played 
"Sweet By and By" and "Only 
an Armor-Bearer" in unison upon 
their cornets. And never before in 
that town was bass drum so soundly 
whacked* Bulger managed to keep 
time with the cornets upon his instru- 
ment, but his feet were always wo- 
fully unrhythmic. He shuffled and 
staggered and rocked from side to 
side like a bear. 

J 5 



O. HENRYANA 

Truly, he was not pleasing to the 
sight. He was a bent, ungainly old 
man, with a face screwed to one side 
and wrinkled like a dry prune. The 
red shirt, which proclaimed his enlist- 
ment into the ranks, was a misfit, 
being the outer husk of a leviathan 
corporal who had died some time be- 
fore. This garment hung upon Bul- 
ger in folds. His old brown cap was 
always pulled down over one eye. 
These and his wabbling gait gave 
him the appearance of some great 
simian, captured and imperfectly 
educated in pedestrian and musical 
manoeuvres. 

The thoughtless boys and unde- 
veloped men who gathered about 
the street services of the Army bad- 
gered Bulger incessantly. They 
called upon him to give oral testi- 
mony to his conversion, and criti- 
cized the technique and style of his 
16 



BULGER'S FRIEND 

drum performance. But the old 
man paid no attention whatever to 
their jeers. He rarely spoke to any 
one except when, on coming and 
going, he gruffly saluted his com- 
rades. 

The sergeant had met many odd 
characters, and knew how to study 
them. He allowed the recruit to 
have his own silent way for a time. 
Every evening Bulger appeared at 
the hall, marched up the street with 
the squad and back again. Then 
he would place his drum in the 
corner where it belonged, and sit 
upon the last bench in the rear until 
the hall meeting was concluded. 

But one night the sergeant fol- 
lowed the old man outside, and laid 
his hand upon his shoulder. "Com- 
rade," he said, "is it well with you?" 

"Not yet, sergeant," said Bulger. 
" I'm only tryin'. I'm glad you come 

*7 



O. HENRYANA 

outside. I've been wantin' to ask 
you: Do you believe the Lord would 
take a man in if he come to Him late 
like — kind of a last resort, you know? 
Say a man who'd lost everything — 
home and property and friends and 
health. Wouldn't it look mean to 
wait till then and try to come?" 

"Bless His name — no!" said the 
sergeant. "Come ye that are heavy 
laden; that's what He says. The 
poorer, the more miserable, the more 
unfortunate — the greater His love 
and forgiveness." 

'Yes, I'm poor," said Bulger. 
"Awful poor and miserable. You 
know when I can think best, ser- 
geant? It's when I'm beating the 
drum. Other times there's a kind 
of muddled roarin' in my head. The 
drum seems to kind of soothe and 
calm it. There's a thing I'm tryin' to 
study out, but I ain't made it yet." 
18 



BULGER'S FRIEND 

"Do you pray, comrade ?" asked 
the sergeant. 

"No, I don't," said Bulger. 
"What'd be the use? I know where 
the hitch is. Don't it say somewhere 
for a man to give up his own family 
or friends and serve the Lord?" 

"If they stand in his way; not 
otherwise." 

"I've got no family," continued 
the old man, "nor no friends — but 
one. And that one is what's driven 
me to ruin." 

"Free yourself!" cried the ser- 
geant. "He is no friend, but an 
enemy who stands between you and 
salvation." 

"No," answered Bulger, emphat- 
ically, "no enemy. The best friend 
I ever had." 

"But you say he's driven you to 
ruin!" 

The old man chuckled dryly: 

19 



O. HENRYANA 

"And keeps me in rags and livin' 
on scraps and sleepin' like a dog 
in a patched-up kennel. And yet I 
never had a better friend. You 
don't understand, sergeant. You lose 
all your friends but the best one, 
and then you'll know how to hold 
on to the last one." 

"Do you drink, comrade?" asked 
the sergeant. 

"Not a drop in twenty years," 
Bulger replied. The sergeant was 
puzzled. 

"If this friend stands between you 
and your soul's peace, give him up," 
was all he could find to say. 

"I can't — now," said the old man, 
dropping into a fretful whine. "But 
you just let me keep on beating the 
drum, sergeant, and maybe I will 
some time. I'm a-tryin'. Some- 
times I come so near thinkin' it out 
that a dozen more licks on the drum 
20 



BULGER'S FRIEND 

would settle it. I get mighty nigh 
to the point, and then I have to quit. 
You'll give me more time, won't 
you, sergeant?" 

" All you want, and God bless you, 
comrade. Pound away until you 
hit the right note." 

Afterward the sergeant would 
often call to Bulger: "Time, com- 
rade! Knocked that friend of yours 
out yet?" The answer was always 
unsatisfactory. 

One night at a street corner the 
sergeant prayed loudly that a certain 
struggling comrade might be parted 
from an enemy who was leading him 
astray under the guise of friendship. 
Bulger, in sudden and plainly evident 
alarm, immediately turned his drum 
over to a fellow volunteer, and 
shuffled rapidly away down the 
street. The next night he was 
back again at his post, without any 

21 



O. HENRYANA 

explanation of his strange be- 
haviour. 

The sergeant wondered what it all 
meant, and took occasion to question 
the old man more closely as to the 
influence that was retarding the 
peace his soul seemed to crave. But 
Bulger carefully avoided particular- 
izing. 

" It's my own fight/' he said. " I've 
got to think it out myself. Nobody 
else don't understand." 

The winter of 1892 was a memor- 
able one in the South. The cold 
was almost unprecedented, and snow 
fell many inches deep where it had 
rarely whitened the ground before. 
Much suffering resulted among the 
poor, who had not anticipated the 
rigorous season. The little squad 
of Salvationists found more distress 
then they could relieve. 

Charity in that town, while swift 

22 



BULGER'S FRIEND 

and liberal, lacked organization. 
Want, in that balmy and productive 
climate, existed only in sporadic 
cases, and these were nearly always 
quietly relieved by generous neigh- 
bours. But when some sudden dis- 
astrous onslaught of the elements — 
storm, fire or flood — occurred, the 
impoverished sufferers were often 
too slowly aided because system 
was lacking, and because charity was 
called upon too seldom to become 
a habit. At such times the Salva- 
tion Army was very useful. Its 
soldiers went down into alleys and 
byways to rescue those who, unused 
to extreme want, had never learned 
to beg. 

At the end of three weeks of hard 
freezing a level foot of snow fell. 
Hunger and cold struck the improvi- 
dent, and a hundred women, children 
and old men were gathered into the 

23 



O. HENRYANA 

Army's quarters to be warmed and 
fed. Each day the blue-uniformed 
soldiers slipped in and out of the 
stores and offices of the town, gather- 
ing pennies and dimes and quarters 
to buy food for the starving. And 
in and out of private houses the 
Salvationists went with baskets of 
food and clothing, while day by day 
the mercury still crouched among 
the tens and twenties. 

Alas! business, that scapegoat, was 
dull. The dimes and quarters came 
more reluctantly from tills that jin- 
gled not when they were opened. 
Yet in the big hall of the Army the 
stove was kept red-hot, and upon 
the long table, set in the rear, could 
always be found at least coffee and 
bread and cheese. The sergeant and 
the squad fought valiantly. At last 
the money on hand was all gone, and 
the daily collections were diminished 

24 



BULGER'S FRIEND 

to a variable sum, inadequate to the 
needs of the dependents of the Army. 

Christmas was near at hand. 
There were fifty children in the hall, 
and many more outside, to whom 
that season brought no joy beyond 
what was brought by the Army. 
None of these little pensioners had 
thus far lacked necessary comforts, 
and they had already begun to 
chatter of the tree — that one bright 
vision in the sober monotony of the 
year. Never since the Army first 
came had it failed to provide a tree 
and gifts for the children. 

The sergeant was troubled. He 
knew that an announcement of "no 
tree" would grieve the hearts under 
those thin cotton dresses and ragged 
jackets more than would stress of 
storm or scanty diet; and yet there 
was not money enough to meet the 
daily demands for food and fuel. 

25 



O. HENRYANA 

On the night of December the 
20th the sergeant decided to an- 
nounce that there could be no 
Christmas tree: it seemed unfair to 
allow the waxing anticipation of 
the children to reach too great a 
height. 

The evening was colder, and the 
still deep snow was made deeper 
by another heavy fall swept upon 
the wings of a fierce and shrill- 
voiced northern gale. The sergeant, 
with sodden boots and reddened 
countenance, entered the hall at 
nightfall, and removed his thread- 
bare overcoat. Soon afterward the 
rest of the faithful squad drifted 
in, the women heavily shawled, the 
men stamping their snow-crusted 
feet loudly upon the steep stairs. 
After the slender supper of cold 
meat, beans, bread, and coffee had 
been finished all joined in a short 
26 



BULGER'S FRIEND 

service of song and prayer, according 
to their daily habit. 

Far back in the shadow sat Bulger. 
For weeks his ears had been deprived 
of that aid to thought, the booming 
of the big bass drum. His wrinkled 
face wore an expression of gloomy 
perplexity. The Army had been too 
busy for the regular services and 
parades. The silent drum, the ban- 
ners, and the cornets were stored in a 
little room at the top of the stairway. 

Bulger came to the hall every night 
and ate supper with the others. In 
such weather work of the kind that 
the old man usually did was not to 
be had, and he was bidden to share 
the benefits conferred upon the other 
unfortunates. He always left early, 
and it was surmised that he passed 
the nights in his patchwork hut, that 
structure being waterproof and 
weathertight beyond the promise 
27 



O. HENRYANA 

of its outward appearance. Of late 
the sergeant had had no time to be- 
stow upon the old man. 

At seven o'clock the sergeant stood 
up and rapped upon the table with 
a lump of coal. When the room be- 
came still he began his talk, that 
rambled off into a halting discourse 
quite unlike his usual positive and 
direct speeches. The children had 
gathered about their friend in a rag- 
ged, wriggling, and wide-a-wake circle . 
Most of them had seen that fresh, 
ruddy countenance of his emerge, at 
the twelve-stroke of a night of splen- 
dour, from the whiskered mask of a 
magnificent Santa Claus. They 
knew now that he was going to speak 
of the Christmas tree. 

They tiptoed and listened, flushed 
with a hopeful and eager awe. The 
sergeant saw it, frowned, and swal- 
lowed hard. Continuing , he planted 
28 



BULGER'S FRIEND 

the sting of disappointment in each 
expectant little bosom, and watched 
the light fade from their eyes. 

There was to be no tree. Renuncia- 
tion was no new thing to them; they 
had been born to it. Still a few little 
ones in whom hope died hard sobbed 
aloud, and wan, wretched mothers 
tried to hush and console them. A 
kind of voiceless wail went among 
them, scarcely a protest, rather the 
ghost of a lament for the childhood's 
pleasures they had never known. 
The sergeant sat down and figured 
cheerlessly with the stump of a pencil 
upon the blank border of a news- 
paper. 

Bulger rose and shuffled out of the 
room without ceremony, as was his 
custom. He was heard fumbling in 
the little room in the hallway, and 
suddenly a thunderous roar broke 
out, filling the whole building with 
29 



O. HENRYANA 

its booming din. The sergeant 
started, and then laughed as if his 
nerves welcomed the diversion. 

"It's only Comrade Bulger," he 
said, "doing a little thinking in his 
own quiet way." 

The norther rattled the windows 
and shrieked around the corners. 
The sergeant heaped more coal into 
the stove. The increase of that 
cutting wind bore the cold promise 
of days, perhaps weeks, of hard times 
to come. The children were slowly 
recovering the sad philosophy out 
of which the deceptive hope of one 
bright day had enticed them. The 
women were arranging things for 
the night; preparing to draw the 
long curtain across the width of the 
hall, separating the children's quar- 
ters and theirs from those of the 
men. 

About eight o'clock the sergeant 

3° 



BULGER'S FRIEND 

had seen that all was shipshape; and 
was wrapping his woolen comforter 
around his neck, ready for his cold 
journey homeward, when footsteps 
were heard upon the stairway. The 
door opened, and Bulger came in 
covered with snow like Santa Claus, 
and as red of face, but otherwise 
much unlike the jolly Christmas 
saint. 

The old man shambled down the 
hall to where the sergeant stood, 
drew a wet, earth-soiled bag from 
under his coat, and laid it upon the 
table. "Open it," he said, and mo- 
tioned to the sergeant. 

That cheery official obeyed with 
an indulgent smile. He seized the 
bottom of the bag, turned it up, and 
stood, with his smile turned to a gape 
of amazement, gazing at a heap of 
gold and silver coin that rolled upon 
the table. 

3 1 



O. HENRYANA 

"Count it," said Bulger. 

The jingling of the money and 
wonder at its source had produced a 
profound silence in the room. For a 
time nothing could be heard but 
the howling of the wind and the 
chink of the coins as the sergeant 
slowly laid them in little separate 
piles. 

"Six hundred," said the sergeant, 
and stopped to clear his throat, "six 
hundred and twenty-three dollars 
and eighty-five cents!" 

"Eighty," said Bulger. " Mistake 
of five cents. I've thought it out at 
last, sergeant, and Fve give up that 
friend I told you about. That's 
him — dollars and cents. The boys 
was right when they said I was a 
miser. Take it, sergeant, and spend 
it the best way for them that needs 
it, not forgettin' a tree for the young 
uns, and 

32 



BULGER'S FRIEND 

"Hallelujah!" cried the sergeant. 

"And a new bass drum," con- 
cluded Bulger. 

And then the sergeant made an- 
other speech. 



33 



A PROFESSIONAL 
SECRET 

THE STORY OF A MAID MADE OVER 

DR. SATTERFIELD PRINCE 
physician to the leisure class, 
looked at his watch. It in- 
dicated five minutes to twelve. At 
the stroke of the hour would expire 
the morning term set apart for the re- 
ception of his patients in his handsome 
office apartments. And then the 
young woman attendant ushered in 
from the waiting-room the last unit of 
the wealthy and fashionable gathering 
that had come to patronize his skill. 

Dr. Prince turned, his watch still 
in hand, his manner courteous, but 

34 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

seeming to invite promptness and 
brevity in the interview. The last 
patient was a middle-aged lady, 
richly dressed, with an amiable and 
placid face. When she spoke her 
voice revealed the drawling, musical 
slur and intonation of the South. 
She had come, she leisurely explained, 
to bespeak the services of Dr. Prince 
in the case of her daughter, who was 
possessed of a most mysterious afflic- 
tion. And then, femininely, she pro- 
ceeded to exhaustively diagnose the 
affliction, informing the physician 
with a calm certitude of its origin 
and nature. 

The diagnosis advanced by the 
lady — Mrs. Galloway Rankin — was 
one so marvelously strange and sing- 
ular in its conception that Dr. Prince, 
accustomed as he was to the conceits 
and vagaries of wealthy malingerers, 
was actually dumfounded. The fol- 

35 



O. HENRYANA 

lowing is the matter of Mrs. Ran- 
kin's statement, briefly reported: 
She — Mrs. Rankin — was of an old 
Kentucky family, the Bealls. Be- 
tween the Bealls and another his- 
toric house — the Rankins — had been 
waged for nearly a century one of 
the fiercest and most sanguinary 
feuds within the history of the State. 
Each generation had kept alive both 
the hate and the warfare, until at 
length it was said that Nature began 
to take cognizance of the sentiment 
and Bealls and Rankins were born 
upon earth as antagonistic toward 
each other as cats and . dogs. So, 
for four generations the war had 
waged, and the mountains were 
dotted with tombstones of both 
families. At last, for lack of fuel to 
feed upon, the feud expired with only 
one direct descendant of the Bealls 
and one of the Rankins remaining — 

36 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

Evalina Beall, aged nineteen, and 
Galloway Rankin, aged twenty-five. 
The last mortal shot in the feud 
was fired by Cupid. The two sur- 
vivors met, became immediately and 
mutually enamoured, and a miracle 
transpired on Kentucky soil — a Ran- 
kin wedded a Beall. 

Interposed, and irrelevant to the 
story, was the information that coal 
mines had been discovered later on 
the Rankin lands, and now the Gal- 
loway Rankins were to be computed 
among the millionaries. 

All that was long enough ago for 
there to be now a daughter, twenty 
years of age — Miss Annabel Rankin 
— for whose relief the services of Dr. 
Prince was petitioned. 

Then followed, in Mrs. Rankin's 
statement, a description of the mys- 
terious, though by her readily ac- 
counted for, affliction. 

37 



O. HENRYANA 

It seemed that there was a peculiar 
difficulty in the young lady's powers 
of locomotion. In walking, a process 
requiring a coordination and unan- 
imity of the functions — Dr. Prince, 
said Mrs. Rankin, would understand 
and admit the non-existence of a 
necessity for anatomical specifica- 
tion — there persisted a stubborn 
opposition, a most contrary and coun- 
teracting antagonism. In those suc- 
cessively progressive and generally 
unconsciously automatic movements 
necessary to proper locomotion, there 
was a violent lack of harmony and 
mutuality. To give an instance 
cited by Mrs. Rankin— if Miss Anna- 
bel desired to ascend a stairway, one 
foot would be easily advanced to 
the step above, but instead of aiding 
and abetting its fellow, the other 
would at once proceed to start down- 
stairs. By a strong physical and 

38 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

mental effort the young lady could 
walk fairly well for a short distance 
but suddenly the rebellious entities 
would become uncontrollable, and 
she would be compelled to turn un- 
desirable corners, to enter impossible 
doorways, to dance, shuffle, side- 
step and perform other undignified 
and distressing evolutions. 

After setting forth these lamenta- 
ble symptoms, Mrs. Rankin em- 
phatically asserted her belief that the 
affliction was the result of heredity — 
of the union between the naturally 
opposing and contrary Beall and 
Rankin elements. She believed that 
the inherited spirit of the ancient 
feud had taken on physical mani- 
festations, exhibiting them in the 
person of the unfortunate outcome 
of the union of opposites. That in 
Miss Annabel Rankin was warring 
the imperishable antipathy of the 

39 



O. HENRYANA 

two families. In other words, that 
one of Miss Rankin's — that is to 
say, that when Miss Rankin took a 
step it was a Beall step, and the 
next one was dominated by the be- 
queathed opposition of the Rankins. 

Doctor Prince received the com- 
munication with his usual grave, pro- 
fessional attention, and promised to 
call the next day at ten to inspect 
the patient. 

Promptly at the hour his electric 
runabout turned into the line of 
stylish autos and hansoms that wait 
along the pavements before the most 
expensive hostelry on American soil. 

When Miss Annabel Rankin en- 
tered the reception parlour of their 
choice suite of rooms Doctor Prince 
gave a little blink of surprise through 
his brilliantly polished nose glasses. 
The glow of perfect health and the 
contour of perfect beauty were 
4 o 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

visible in the face and form of the 
young lady. But admiration gave 
way to sympathy when he saw her 
walk. She entered at a little run, 
swayed, stepped off helplessly at a 
sharp tangent, advanced, marked 
time, backed off, recovered and 
sidled with a manoeuvring rush to a 
couch, where she rested, with a look 
of serious melancholy upon her hand- 
some face. 

Dr. Prince proceeded with his in- 
terrogatories in the delicate, reassur- 
ing, gentlemanly manner that had 
brought him so many patrons who 
placed a value upon those amenities. 
Miss Annabel answered frankly and 
sensibly, indeed, for one of her years. 
The feud theory of Mrs. Rankin was 
freely discussed. The daughter also 
believed in it. 

Soon the physician departed, prom- 
ising to call again and administer 

41 



O. HENRYANA 

treatment. Then he buzzed down 
the Avenue and four doors on an 
asphalted side street to the office 
of Dr. Grumbleton Myers, the great 
specialist in locomotor ataxia and 
nerve ailments. The two distin- 
guished physicians shut themselves 
in a private office, and the great 
Myers dragged forth a decanter of 
sherry and a box of Havanas. When 
the consultation was over both shook 
their heads. 

"Fact is," summed up Myers, 
"we don't know anything about any- 
thing. I'd say treat symptoms now 
until something turns up; but there 
are no symptoms. " 

"The feud diagnosis, then?" sug- 
gested Doctor Prince, archly, ridding 
his cigar of its ash. 

"It's an interesting case," said 
the specialist, noncommittally. 

"I say, Prince," called Myers, as 

42 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

his caller was leaving. "Er — some- 
times, you know, children that fight 
and quarrel are shut in separate 
rooms. Doesn't it seem a pity, 
now, that bloomers aren't in fashion? 
By separ " 

"But they aren't," smiled Doctor 
Prince, "and we must be fashionable, 
at any rate." 

Doctor Prince burned midnight 
oil — or its equivalent, a patent, elec- 
tric, soft-shaded, midnight incan- 
descent, over his case. With such 
little success did his light shine that 
he was forced to make a little speech 
to the Rankins full of scientific terms 
— a thing he conscientiously avoided 
with his patients — which shows that 
he was driven to expedient. At last 
he was reduced to suggest treatment 
by hypnotism. 

Being crowded further, he advised 
it, and appeared another day with 

43 



O. HENRYANA 

Professor Adami, the most reputable 
and non-advertising one he could find 
among that school of practitioners. 

Miss Annabel, gentle and melan- 
choly, fell an easy victim — or, I 
should say, subject — to the profes- 
sor's influence. Previously instructed 
by Doctor Prince in the nature of 
the malady he was about to combat, 
the dealer in mental drugs proceeded 
to offer "suggestion " (in the language 
of his school) to the afflicted and un- 
conscious young lady, impressing 
her mind with the conviction that 
her affliction was moonshine and her 
perambulatory powers without im- 
pairment. 

When the spell was removed Miss 
Rankin sat up, looking a little be- 
wildered at first, and then rose to her 
feet, walking straight across the 
room with the grace, the sureness 
and the ease of a Diana, a Leslie- 

44 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

Carter, or a Vassar basketball cham- 
pion. Miss Annabel's sad face was 
now lit with hope and joy. Mrs. 
Rankin of Southern susceptibility 
wept a little, delightedly, upon a 
minute lace handkerchief. Miss 
Annabel continued to walk about 
firmly and accurately, in absolute 
control of the machinery necessary 
for her so to do. Doctor Prince 
quietly congratulated Professor 
Adami, and then stepped forward, 
smilingly rubbing his nose glasses 
with an air. His position enabled 
him to overshadow the hypnotizer 
who, contented to occupy the back- 
ground temporarily, was busy esti- 
mating in his mind with how large a 
bill for services he would dare to 
embellish the occasion when he 
should come to the front. 

Amid repeated expressions of gra- 
titude, the two professional gentle- 

45 



O. HENRYANA 

men made their adieus, a little elated 
at the success of the treatment which, 
with one of them, had been an experi- 
ment, with the other an exhibition. 
As the door closed behind them, 
Miss Annabel, her usually serious 
and pensive temper somewhat en- 
livened by the occasion, sat at the 
piano and dashed into a stirring 
march. Outside, the two men mov- 
ing toward the elevator heard a 
scream of alarm from her and 
hastened back. They found her on 
the piano-stool, with one hand still 
pressing the keys. The other arm was 
extended rigidly to its full length be- 
hind her, its fingers tightly clenched 
into a pink and pretty little fist. 
Her mother was bending over her, 
joining in the alarm and surprise. 
Miss Rankin rose from the stool, now 
quiet, but again depressed and sad. 
'I don't know what did it," 
4 6 



a • 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

she said, plaintively; "I began to 
play and that arm shot back. It 
wouldn't stay near the piano while 
the other one was there/' 

A ping-pong table stood in the 
room. 

"A little game, Miss Rankin/' cried 
Professor Adami, gayly, trying to 
feel his way. 

They played. With the racquet 
in the refractory arm, Miss Annabel 
played in fine style. Her control 
of it was perfect. The professor 
laid down his racquet. 

" Ah ! a button is loose on my coat/' 
said he. " Such is the fate of sorrow- 
ful bachelors. A needle and thread, 
now, Miss Rankin?" 

A little surprised, but smiling 
acquiescence, Annabel brought the 
articles from another room. 

"Now thread the needle, if you 
please," said Professor Adami. 

47 



O. HENRYANA 

Annabel bit off two feet of the 
black silk. When she came to thread 
the needle the secret was out. As 
the hand presenting the thread ap- 
proached the other holding the needle 
that arm was jerked violently away. 
Doctor Prince was first to reduce 
the painful discovery to words. 

"Dear Miss and Mrs. Rankin/' 
he said, in his most musical 
consolation-baritone, "we have been 
only partially successful. The afflic- 
tion, Miss Rankin, has passed from 
your — that is, the affliction is now 
in your arms." 

"Oh, dear!" sighed Annabel, "Fve 
a Beall arm and a Rankin arm, then. 
Well, I can use one hand at a time, 
anyway. People won't notice it as 
they did before. Oh, what an an- 
noyance those feuds were, to be sure! 
It seems to me they should make laws 
against them." 

48 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

Doctor Prince looked inquiringly 
at Professor Adami. That gentle- 
man shook his head. "Another day," 
he said. "I prefer not to establish 
the condition at a lesser interval 
than two or three days." 

So, three days afterward they re- 
turned, and the professor replaced 
Miss Rankin under control. This 
time there was, apparently, perfect 
success. She came forth from the 
trance, and with full muscular powers. 
She walked the floor with a sure, 
rythmic step. She played several 
difficult selections upon the piano, 
the hands and arms moving with 
propriety and with allied ease. 
Miss Rankin seemed at last to possess 
a perfectly well-ordered physical be- 
ing as well as a very grateful mental 
one. 

A week afterward there wafted 
into Doctor Prince's office a youth, 

49 



O. HENRYANA 

generously gilded. The hallmarks of 
society were deeply writ upon him. 

"I'm Ashburton," he explained; 
"T. Ripley Ashburton, you know. 
I'm engaged to Miss Rankin. I 
understand you've been training her 
for some breaks in her gaits — " 
T. Ripley Ashburton caught himself. 
"Didn't mean that, you know — 
slipped out — been loafing around 
stables quite a lot. I say, Doctor 
Prince, I want you to tell me. Can- 
didly, you know. I'm awful spoons 
on Miss Rankin. We're to be mar- 
ried in the FalL You might con- 
sider me one of the family, you know. 
They told me about the treatment 
you gave her with the — er — medium 
fellow. That set her up wonder- 
fully, I assure you. She goes freely 
now, and handles her fore — I mean 
you know, she's over all that old 
trouble. But there's something else 

5° 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

started up that's making the track 
pretty heavy; so I called, don't you 
understand." 

"I had not been advised," said 
Doctor Prince, "of any recurrence 
of Miss Rankin's indisposition." 

T. Ripley Ashburton produced a 
silver cigarette-case and contem- 
plated it tenderly. Receiving no en- 
couragement, he replaced it in his 
pocket with a sigh. 

"Not a recurrence," he said, 
thoughtfully, "but something differ- 
ent. Possibly I'm the only one in a 
position to know. Hate to discuss 
it — reveal Cupid's secrets, you know 
— such a jolly low thing to do — but 
suppose the occasion justifies it." 

"If you possess any information 
or have observed anything," said 
Doctor Prince, judicially, "through 
which Miss Rankin's condition might 
be benefited, it is your duty, of 

5i 



O. HEXRYAXA 

course, to apply it in her behalf. I 
need hardly remind you that such 
disclosures are held as secrets on 
professional honour.'' 

"I believe I mentioned/' said Mr. 
Ashburton, his fingers still hovering 
around the pocket containing his 
cigarette case, "that Miss Rankin 
and I are ever so sweet upon each 
other. She's a jolly, swell girl, if 
she did come from the Kentucky 
mountains. Lately she's acted awful 
queerly. She's awful affectionate 
one minute, and the next she turns 
me down like a perfect stranger. 
Last night I called at the hotel, and 
she met me at the door of their 
rooms. Xobody was in sight, and 
she gave me an awful nice kiss — er 
— engaged, you know, Doctor Prince 
— and then she fired away and gave 
me an awful hard slap in the face. 
'I hate the sight of you,' she said; 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

'how dare you take the liberty!' 3 
Mr. Ashburton drew an envelope 
from his pocket and extracted from 
it a sheet of note paper of a delicate 
heliotrope tint. "You might read 
this note, you know. Can't say if it's 
a medical case, 'pon my honour, but 
I'm awfully queered, don't you un- 
derstand." 

Doctor Prince read the following 
lines: 

My dearest Ripley: 

Do come around this evening — there's a 

dear boy — and take me out somewhere. 

Mamma has a headache, and says she'll 

be glad to be rid of both of us for a while. 

'Twas so sweet of you to send those pond 

lilies — they're just what I wanted for the 

east windows. You darling boy — you're so 

thoughtful and good — I'm sure you're worth 

all the love of X7 

Your very own 

Annabel. 

P. S. — On second thoughts, I will ask 

you not to call this evening, as I shall be 

53 



O. HENRYANA 

otherwise engaged. Perhaps it has never 
occurred to you that there may be two 
opinions about the vast pleasure you seem 
to think your society affords others. Clothes 
and the small talk of club-houses and race- 
tracks hardly ever succeed in making a man 
without other accessories. 

Very respectfully, 
Annabel Rankin. 



Being deprived of the aid of his 
consolation cylinders, T. Ripley Ash- 
burton sat, gloomy, revolving things 
in his mind. 

"Ah!" exclaimed Doctor Prince, 
aloud, but addressing the exclama- 
tion to himself; "driven from the 
arms to the heart !" He perceived 
that the mysterious hereditary con- 
trariety had, indeed, taken up its 
lodging in that tender organ of the 
afflicted maiden. 

The gilded youth was dismissed, 
with the promise that Doctor Prince 

54 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

would make a professional call upon 
Miss Rankin. He did so soon, in 
company with Professor Adami, after 
they had discussed the strange course 
taken by this annoying heritage of 
the Bealls and Rankins. This time, 
as the location of the disorder re- 
quired that the subject be approached 
with ingenuity, some diplomacy was 
exercised before the young lady could 
be induced to submit herself to the 
professor's art. But evidently she 
did so, and emerged from the trance 
as usual without a trace of unpleas- 
ant effect. 

With much interest and some anx- 
iety Doctor Prince passed several 
days awaiting the report of Mr. 
Ashburton, who, indeed, of all others 
would have to be depended upon to 
observe improvements, if any had 
occurred. One morning that youth 
dropped in, jubilant. 

55 



O. HENRYAXA 

"It's all right, you know/' he de- 
clared, cheerfully. "Miss Rankin's 
herself again. She's as sweet as 
cream, and the trouble's all off. 
Never a cross word or look. I'm 
her ducky, all right. She won't 
believe what I tell her about the way 
she used to treat me. Intimates I 
make up the stories. But it's all 
right now — everything's running on 
rubber tires. xAvvfully obliged to 
you and the old boy — er — the me- 
dium, you know. And I say, now, 
Doctor Prince, there's a wonderful 
improvement in Miss Rankin in 
every way. She used to be rather 
stiff, don't you understand — sort of 
superior, in a way — bookish, and a 
habit of thinking things, you know. 
Well, she's cured all round — she's 
a topper now of any bunch in the 
set — swell and stylish and lively! 
Oh, the crowd will fall in to her lead 

5* 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

when she becomes Mrs. T. Ripley. 
Now, I say, Doctor Prince, you and 
the — er — medium gentleman come 
and take supper to-night with Mrs. 
and Miss Rankin and me. I'd be 
delighted if you would, now — I would 
indeed — just for you to see, you 
know, the improvement in Miss 
Rankin. " 

It transpired that Doctor Prince 
and Professor Adami accepted Mr. 
Ashburton's invitation. They con- 
vened at the hotel in the rooms of 
the Rankins. From there they were 
to proceed to the restaurant hon- 
oured by Mr. Ashburton's patronage. 

When Miss Rankin swept grace- 
fully into the room the professional 
gentlemen felt fascination and sur- 
prise conflicting in their feelings. 
She was radiant, bewitching, lively 
to effervescence. Her mother and 
Mr. Ashburton hung, enraptured, 

57 



O. HENRYANA 

upon her looks and words. She was 
most becomingly clothed in pale 
blue. 

"Oh, bother !" she suddenly ex- 
claimed, most vivaciously, "I don't 
like this dress, after all. You must 
all wait," she commanded, with a 
captivating fling of her train, "until 
I change." Half an hour later she 
returned, magnificent in a stunning 
costume of black lace. 

"I'll walk with you downstairs, 
Professor Adami," she declared, with 
a charming smile. Half-way down 
she left his side abruptly and joined 
Doctor Prince. "You've been such 
a benefit to me," she said. "It's 
such a relief to get rid of that horrid 
feud thing. Heavens! Ripley, did 
you forget those bonbons? Oh, this 
horrid black dress! I shouldn't have 
worn it; it makes me think of funerals. 
Did you get the scent of those lilacs 

58 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

then? It makes me think of the 
Kentucky mountains. How I wish 
we were back there." 

"Aren't you fond of New York, 
then?" asked Doctor Prince, re- 
garding her interestedly. 

She started at the sound of his 
voice and looked up vivaciously. 

"Indeed I am," she said, earnestly. 
"I adore New York. Why, I could- 
n't live without theatres and dances 
and my daily drives here. Oh, 
Ripley," she called, over her shoul- 
der, "don't get that bull pup I 
wanted; I've changed my mind. I 
want a Pomeranian — now, don't for- 
get." 

They arrived on the pavement. 

"Oh, a carriage!" exclaimed Miss 
Rankin; "I don't want a carriage, I 
want an auto. Send it away!" 

"All right," said Ashburton, cheer- 
ily, "I thought you said a carriage." 

59 



; HHXRYAXA 

:: ..ei .1 .: .i~.i /.:: ;;::: .1.::; gl;iei 

: : ; .- . ; ;. ! . ^ 
Rankin, with "a winsome pe 
Iwalk. Ripley, 70a and Doctor 

7:; rssor AdamL" 

: ;e r.; 

H; ;'. 

much imy m her old self/* 

"Lots*" said Ashburton, prou 

ruiir-ris. Vr-::-i.i:e. the 

changes her mind every two minutes. 

A :.:.: :t. 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

At the fashionable restaurant 
where they were soon seated, Doctor 
Prince found his curiosity and inter- 
est engaged by Miss Rankin's be- 
haviour. She was in an agreeably 
fascinating humour. Her actions 
were such as might be expected from 
an adored child whose vacillating 
whims were indulged by groveling 
relatives. She ordered article after 
article from the bill of fare, petulantly 
countermanding nearly every one 
when they were set before her. 
Waiters flew and returned, collided, 
conciliated, apologized, and danced 
at her bidding. Her speech was 
quick and lively, deliciously incon- 
sistent, abounding in contradictions, 
conflicting statements, "bulls," dis- 
crepancies and nonconformities. In 
short, she seemed to have acquired 
within the space of a few days all 
that inconsequent, illogical frothiness 
61 



O. HENRYANA 

that passes current among certain 
circles of fashionable life. 

Mr. T. Ripley Ashburton showed 
a doting appreciation and an addled 
delight at the new charms of his 
fiancee — charms that he at once 
recognized as the legal tender of his 
set. 

Later, when the party had broken 
up, Doctor Prince and Professor 
Adami stood, for a moment, at a 
corner, where their ways were to 
diverge. 

"Well," said the professor, who 
was genially softened by the excel- 
lent supper and wine, " this time our 
young lady seems to be more fortun- 
ate. The malady has been eradi- 
cated completely from her entity. 
Yes, sir, in good time, our school 
will be recognized by all." 

Doctor Prince scrutinized the 
handsome, refined countenance of 
62 



A PROFESSIONAL SECRET 

the hypnotist. He saw nothing there 
to indicate that his own diagnosis was 
even guessed at by that gentleman. 

"As you say," he made answer, 
"she appears to have recovered, as 
far as her friends can judge." 

When he could spare the time, 
Doctor Prince again invaded the 
sanctum of the great Grumbleton 
Myers, and together they absorbed 
the poison of nicotine. 

"Yes," said the great Myers, when 
the door was opened and Doctor 
Prince began to ooze out with the 
smoke, "I think you have come to the 
right decision. As long as none of 
the persons concerned has any suspi- 
cion of the truth, and is happy in the 
present circumstances, I don't think 
it necessary to inform him that the 
feuditis Beallorum et Rankinorum — 
how's the Latin, doctor? — has only 
been driven to Miss Rankin's brain." 

63 



THE 
ELUSIVE TENDERLOIN 

THERE is no Tenderloin, 
There never was. That 
is, none that you could run 
a tape-line around. The word really 
implies a condition or a quality — 
much as you would say "reprehen- 
sibility" or "cold feet." 

Metes and bounds have been as- 
signed to it. I know. Realists have 
prated of "from Fourteenth to Forty- 
second," and "as far west as" etc., 
but the larger meaning of the word 
remains with me. 

Confirmation of my interpretation 
of the famous slaughter-house noun- 
adjective came to me from Bill 
64 



THE ELUSIVE TENDERLOIN 

Jeremy, a friend out of the West. 
Bill lives in a town on the edge of 
the prairie-dog country. At times 
Bill yearns to maintain the tradition 
that "ginger shall be hot i' the 
mouth." He brought his last yearn- 
ing to New York. And it devolved 
upon me. You know what that 
means. 

I took Bill to see the cavity that 
has been drilled in the city's tooth, 
soon to be filled with the new gold 
subway; and the Eden Musee, and 
the Flatiron and the crack in 
the front window-pane of Russell 
Sage's house, and the old man 
that threw the stone that did it 
when he was a boy — and I asked 
Bill what he thought of New 
York. 

"You may mean well," said Bill, 
with gentle reproach, "but you've 
got in a groove. You thought I 

65 



O. HENRYANA 

was underwear buyer for the Blue- 
Front Dry Goods Emporium of 
Pine Knob, N. C, didn't you? Or 
the junior partner of Slowcoach 
& Green, of Geegeewocomee, State 
of Goobers, come on for the fall 
stock of jeans, lingerie, and whet- 
stones? Don't treat me like a busi- 
ness friend. 

"Do you suppose the wild, insen- 
sate longing I feel for metropolitan 
gayety is going to be satisfied by 
waxworks and razor-back architec- 
ture? Now you get out the old 
envelope with the itinerary on it, 
and cross out the Brooklyn Bridge 
and the cab that Morgan rides home 
in and the remaining objects of 
interest, for I am going it alone. The 
Tenderloin, well done, is what I shall 
admire for to see." 

Bill Jeremy has a way of doing as 
he says he will. So I did not urge 
66 



THE ELUSIVE TENDERLOIN 

upon him the bridge, or Carnegie 
Hall or the great Tomb — wonders 
that the unselfish New Yorker re- 
serves, unseen, for his friends. 

That evening Bill descended, un- 
protected, upon the Tenderloin. The 
next day he came and put his feet 
upon my desk and told me about 
it. 

"This Tenderloin," said he, "is a 
cross between a fake sideshow and a 
footrace. It's a movable feast — 
somethin' like Easter, or tryin' to 
eat spaghetti with chopsticks. 

"Last night I put all my money but 
nine dollars under a corner of the 
carpet and started out. I had along 
a bill-of-fare of this here Tenderloin; 
it said it begins at Fourteenth street 
and runs to Forty-second, with 
Fourth avenue and Seventh on each 
side of it. Well, I started up from 
Fourteenth so I wouldn't miss any 

6? 



O. HENRYANA 

of it. Lots of people was travelling 
on the streets in a hurry. Thinks I, 
the Tenderloin's sizzlin' to-night; if 
I don't hurry I won't get a seat at 
the performance. 

"Most of the crowd seemed to be 
goin' up and I went up. And then 
they seemed to be goin' down, and 
I went down. I asks a man in a 
light overcoat with a blue jaw leanin' 
against a lamppost where was this 
Tenderloin. 

"'Up that way/ he says, wavin' 
his finger-ring. 

"'How'll I know it when I get to 
it?' I asks. 

"'Yah!' says he, like he was sick. 
'Easy! Youse'll see a flax-headed cull 
stakin' a doll in a 98-cent shirtwaist 
to a cheese sandwich and sarsaparilla, 
and five Salvation Army corporals 
waitin' round for de change. Dere'll 
be a phonograph playin' and nine 
68 



THE ELUSIVE TENDERLOIN 

cops gettin' ready to raid de joint. 
Dat'll be it/ 

"I asked that fellow where I was 
then. 

" c Two blocks from de Pump/ says 
he. 

"I goes on uptown, and seem' 
nothin' particular in the line of sinful 
delight, I strikes 'crosstown to an- 
other avenue. That was Sixth, I 
reckon. People was still walkin' up 
and down, puttin' first one foot in 
front and then the other in the irre- 
ligious and wicked manner that I 
suppose has given the Tenderloin its 
frivolous reputation. Street cars was 
runnin' past, most impious and unre- 
generate; and the profligate Dagoes 
was splittin' chestnuts to roast with 
a wild abandon that reminded me 
considerably of doings in Paris, 
France. The dissipated bootblacks 
was sleepin' in their chairs, and the 
69 



O. HENRYANA 

roast peanut whistles sounded gay 
and devilish among the mad throng 
that leaned ag'inst the awnin' posts. 

"A fellow with a high hat and 
brass buttons gets down off the 
top of his covered sulky, and says 
to me, 'Keb, sir?' 

"'Whereabouts is this Tenderloin, 
Colonel? 1 I asks. 

"'You're right in the centre of it, 
boss/ says he. 'You are standin' 
right now on the wickedest corner 
in New York. Not ten feet from 
here a push-cart man had his pocket 
picked last night; and if you're 
here for a week I can show you at 
least two moonlight trolley parties 
go by on the New Amsterdam line/ 

'"Look here/ says I, Tm out for a 
razoo. I've got nine iron medallions 
of Liberty wearin' holes in my pocket 
linin\ I want to split this Tender- 
loin in two if there's anything in it. 
70 



THE ELUSIVE TENDERLOIN 

Now put me on to something that's 
real degraded and boisterous and 
sizzling with cultured and uproarious 
sin. Something in the way of met- 
ropolitan vice that I can be proud 
of when I go back home. Ain't 
you got any civic pride about you?' 

"'This sulky driver scratched the 
heel of his chin. 

"'Just now, boss/ says he, 'every- 
thing's layin' low. There's a tip out 
that Jerome's cigarettes ain't agreein' 
with him. If it was any other time 
— say/ says he, like an idea struck 
him, 'how'd you like to take in the 
all-night restaurants? Lots of elec- 
tric lights, boss, and people and fun. 
Sometimes they laugh right out loud. 
Out-of-town visitors mostly visit our 
restaurants.' 

" c Get away,' says I, 'I'm beginnin' 
to think your old Tenderloin is noth- 
in' but the butcher's article. A little 

7i 



O. HENRYANA 

spice and infamy and audible riot 
is what I am after. If you can't 
furnish it go back and climb on your 
demi-barouche. We have restaur- 
ants out West/ I tells him, 'where 
we eat grub attended by artificial 
light and laughter. Where is the 
boasted badness of your unjustly 
vituperated city?' 

"The fellow rubs his chin again. 
1 Deed if I know, boss/ says he, 'right 
now. You see Jerome' — and then 
he buds out with another idea. 'Tell 
you what/ says he, 'be the very 
thing! You jump in my keb and Til 
drive you over to Brooklyn. My 
aunt's giving a euchre party to-night/ 
says he, 'because Miles O'Reilly 
is busy, watchin' the natatorium — 
somebody tipped him off it was a 
pool-room. Can you play euchre? 
The keb'll be $3.50 an hour. Jump 
right in, boss.' 

72 



THE ELUSIVE TENDERLOIN 

"That was the best I could do on 
the wickedest corner in New York. 
So I walks over where it's more right- 
eous, hopin' there might be somethin' 
doin' among the Pharisees. Every- 
thing, so far as I could see, was as 
free from guile as a hammock at a 
Chautauqua picnic. The people just 
walked up and down, speakin' of 
chrysanthemum shows and oratorios, 
and enjoyin' the misbegotten repu- 
tation of bein' the wickedest rakes 
on the continent.'' 

"It's too bad, Bill." I said, "that 
you were disappointed in the Tender- 
loin. Didn't you have a chance to 
spend any of your money?" 

"Oh, yes," said Bill. "I managed 
to drop one dollar over on the edge 
of the sinful district. I was goin' 
along down a boulevard when I hears 
an awful hollerin' and fussin' that 
sounded good — it reminded me of a 

73 



O. HENRYANA 

real enjoyable rough-house out West. 
Some fellow was quarrelin' at the top 
of his voice, usin' cuss words, and 
callin' down all kinds of damnation 
about somethin \ 

"The sounds come out through a 
big door in a high buildin' and I went 
in to see the fun. Thinks I, I'll get 
a small slice of this here Tenderloin 
anyhow. Well, I went in, and that's 
where I dropped the dollar. They 
came around and collected it." 

"What was inside, Bill?" I asked. 

"A fellow told me, when we come 
out," said Bill, "it was a church, and 
one of these preachers that mixes 
up in politics was denouncin' the evils 
of the Tenderloin." 



74 



THE STRUGGLE OF 
THE OUTLIERS 

AGAIN, to-day, at a certain 
street, on the ragged boun- 
daries of the city, Lawrence 
Holcombe stopped the trolley car 
and got off. Holcombe was a hand- 
some, prosperous business man of 
forty; a man of high social standing 
and connections. His comfortable 
suburban residence was some five 
miles farther out on the car line 
from the street where so often of late 
he had dropped off the outgoing car. 
The conductor winked at a regular 
passenger, and nodded his head 
archly in the direction of Holcombe's 
hurrying figure. 

75 



O. HENRYANA 

"Getting to be a regular thing," 
commented the conductor. 

Holcombe picked his way gingerly 
down a roughly graded side street 
infested with ragged urchins and 
impeded by abandoned tinware. He 
stopped at a small cottage fenced 
in with a patch of stony ground 
with a few stunted shade-trees grow- 
ing about it. A stout, middle-aged 
woman was washing clothes in a 
tub at one side of the door. She 
looked around, and smiled a smile 
of fat recognition. 

" Good avening, Mr. Holcombe, is 
it yerself ag'in? Ye'll find Katie 
inside, sir." 

"Did you speak to her for me?" 
asked Holcombe, in a low voice; 
"did you try to help me gain her con- 
sent as you promised to do?" 

"Sure, and I did that. But, sir, 
ye know gyurls will be gyurls. The 

76 



STRUGGLE OF OUTLIERS 

more ye coax 'em the wilfuller they 
gets. 'Tis yer own pleadin' that'll 
get her if anything will. An' I 
hopes ye may, for I tells her she'll 
never get a betther offer than yours, 
sir. 'Tis a good girl she is, and a tidy 
hand for anything from the kitchen 
to the parlour, and she's never a 
fault except, maybe, a bit too much 
likin' for dances and ruffles and rib- 
bons, but that's natural to her age 
and good looks if I do say it meself, 
bein' her mither, Mr. Holcombe. 
Ye can spake ag'in to Katie, sir, and 
maybe this time ye'll have luck unless 
Danny Conlan, the wild gossoon, 
has been at it ag'in overpersuadin' 
her ag'inst ye." 

Holcombe turned slightly pale, and 
his lips closed tightly for a moment. 

"I've heard of this fellow Conlan 
before. Why does he interfere? 
Why does he stand in the way? Is 

77 



O. HENRYANA 

there anything between him and 
Katie? Does Katie care for him?" 

Mrs. Flynn gave a sigh, like a puff 
of a locomotive, and a flap upon the 
washboard with a sodden garment 
that sent Holcombe, well splashed, 
six feet away. 

"Ask me no questions about what's 
in a gyurl's heart and I'll tell ye no 
lies. Her own mither can't tell any 
more than yerself, Mr. Holcombe." 

Holcombe stepped inside the cot- 
tage. Katie Flynn, with rolled-up 
sleeves, was ironing a dress of 
flounced muslin. Criticism of Hol- 
combe's deviation from his own sphere 
to this star of lower orbit must have 
waned at the sight of the girl. Her 
beauty was of the most solvent and 
convincing sort. Dusky Irish eyes, 
one great braid of jetty, shining hair, 
a crimson mouth, dimpling and shap- 
ing itself to every mood of its owner, 

78 



STRUGGLE OF OUTLIERS 

a figure strong and graceful, seem- 
ingly full of imperishable life and 
action — Katie Flynn was one to be 
sought after and striven for, 

Holcombe went and stood by her 
side as she ironed, and watched the 
lithe play of muscles rolling beneath 
the satiny skin of her rounded fore- 
arms. 

" Katie," he said, his voice con- 
cealing a certain anxiety beneath a 
wooing tenderness, "I have come 
for my answer. It isn't necessary 
to repeat what we have talked over 
so often, but you know how anxious 
I am to have you. You know my 
circumstances and position, and that 
you will have every comfort and 
every privilege that you could ask 
for. Say 'Yes/ Katie, and Til be 
the luckiest man in this town to-day." 

Kate set her iron down with a 
metallic click, and leaned her elbows 

79 



O. HENRYANA 

upon the ironing board. Her great 
blue-black eyes went, in their Irish 
way, from sparkling fun to thought- 
ful melancholy. 

"Oh, Mr. Holcombe, I don't know 
what to say. I know you'd be kind 
to me, and give me the best home 
I could ever expect. Fd like to say 
'yes' — indeed I would. Fd about 
decided to tell you so, but there's 
Danny — he objects so." 

Danny again! Holcombe strode 
up and down the room impatiently 
frowning. 

"Who is this fellow Conlan, 
Katie?" he asked. "Every time I 
nearly get your consent he comes be- 
tween us. Does he want you to live 
always in this cottage for the conven- 
ience of his mightiness? Why do 
you listen to him?" 

"He wants me," said Katie, in the 
voice of a small, spoiled child. 
80 



STRUGGLE OF OUTLIERS 

"Well, I want you too," said 
Holcombe, masterfully. "If I could 
see this wonderful Mr. Conlan, of 
the persuasive tongue, Fd argue 
the matter with him." 

"He's been the champion middle- 
weight fighter of this town," said 
Katie, a bit mischievously. 

"Oh, has he! Well, that doesn't 
frighten me, Katie. In fact, I am 
not sure but what Fd tackle him 
a few rounds myself, with you for 
the prize; although Fm somewhat 
rusty with the gloves." 

"Whist! there he comes now," 
exclaimed Katie, her eyes widening 
a little with apprehension. 

Holcombe looked out the door 
and saw a young man coming up 
from the gate. He walked with an 
easy swagger. His face was smooth 
and truculent, but not bad. He wore 
a cap pulled down to one eye. He 
81 



O. HENRYANA 

walked inside the house and stopped 
at the door of the room in which stood 
his rival and the bone of contention. 

"You're after my girl again, are 
you?" be grumbled, huskily and 
ominously. "I don't like it, do you 
see? Fve told her so, and I tell 
you so. She stays here. For ten 
cents I'd knock your block off. Do 
you see?" 

"Now Mr. Conlan," began Hol- 
combe, striving to avoid the argu- 
mentum ad hominem, "listen to rea- 
son. It is only fair to let Katie 
choose for herself. Is it quite the 
square thing to try to prevent her 
from doing what she prefers to do? 
If it had not been for your inter- 
ference I would have had her long 
ago." 

"For five cents," pursued the 
unmoved Mr. Conlan, lowering his 
terms, "Fd knock your block off." 
82 



STRUGGLE OF OUTLIERS 

Into Holcombe's eye there came 
the light of desperate resolve. He 
saw but one way to clear the obstacle 
from his path. 

"I am told," he said quietly and 
firmly, "that you are a fighter. 
Your mind seems to dwell upon phy- 
sical combat as the solution to all 
questions. Now, Conlan, I'm no 
scrapper, but I'll fight you to a finish 
any time within the next three minutes 
to see who gets the girl. If I win 
she goes with me. If you win you 
have your way, and I'll not trouble 
her again. Are you game?" 

Danny Conlan's hard, blue eyes 
looked a sudden admiration. 

"You're all right/' he conceded 
with gruff candour. "I didn't think 
you was that sort. You're all right. 
It's a dead fair sporting prop., and 
I'm your company. I'll stand by 
the results according to terms. Come 

83 



O. HENRYANA 

on, and Til show you where it can 
be pulled off. You're all right." 

Katie tried to interfere, but Danny 
silenced her. He led Holcombe down 
the hill to a deep gully that sheltered 
them from view. Night was just 
closing in upon the twilight. They 
laid aside their coats and hats. Here 
was a situation in the methodical 
existence of Lawrence Holcombe, 
real estate and bond broker, repre- 
sentative business man of unques- 
tionable habits and social position! 
Fighting with a professional tough 
in a gully in a squalid settlement for 
the daughter of an Irish washer- 
woman ! 

The combat was a short one. If 
it had lasted longer, Holcombe would 
have lost, for both his wind and his 
science had deteriorated from long 
lack of training. Therefore, he forced 
the fighting from the start. It is 
8 4 



STRUGGLE OF OUTLIERS 

difficult to say to what he owed his 
victory over the once champion 
middleweight. One thing in his 
favour was that Mr. Conlan's nerve 
and judgment had been somewhat 
shattered by the effects of a recent 
spree. Another must have been that 
Holcombe was stimulated to supreme 
exertion by an absorbing incentive 
to win — a prompting more power- 
ful than the instinct of the gladiator, 
deeper than all the motives of gallan- 
try, and more important than the 
vital influence of love itself. A third 
fortuitous adjunct was, without 
doubt, a chance blow upon the pro- 
jecting chin of the middleweight, 
under which that warrior sank to 
the gully's grime and remained in- 
capable, while Holcombe stood above 
him and leisurely counted him out. 

Danny got shakily to his feet, 
and proved to be a true sport. 

85 



O. HENRYANA 

"You're all right," he said. "But 
if we'd had it by rounds 'twould 
have ended different. The girl goes 
with you, do you see? Fm on the 
square." 

They climbed back to the cottage. 

"It's settled," announced Hol- 
combe. "Mr. Conlan removes his 
objections." 

"That's straight," said Danny. 
"He's all right." 

Holcombe had only a scratched 
and slightly reddened chin from a 
vicious, glancing uppercut from 
Danny's left. Danny showed pun- 
ishment. One eye was nearly closed. 
His lip was bleeding. 

Katie was a true woman. Such 
do not at once crown the victor in 
the tourney for their favour. Pity 
comes first. The victor must wait 
for his own. It will come to him. 
She flew to the vanquished champion 
86 



STRUGGLE OF OUTLIERS 

and comforted him, ministering to 
his bruises. Holcombe stood, serene 
and smiling, without jealousy. 

"To-morrow," he said to Katie, 
with head erect and beaming eyes. 

"To-morrow, if you like," an- 
swered Katie. 

Holcombe minced his precarious 
way up the ragged hill among the 
obsolete tinware. His car came along 
a-glitter with electric lights and jam- 
med with passengers. He jumped 
to the rear platform and stood there. 
At his side he found Weatherly, a 
friend and neighbour, who had also 
built a house in the suburbs, a few 
squares from his own. 

"Hello, Holcombe," yelled Weath- 
erly, above the crash of the car. 
"Been looking over some real estate, 
out here? How're Mrs. Holcombe 
and the young H's?" 
8 7 



O. HENRYANA 

"First rate," shouted Holcombe, 
"when I left home this morning. 
How's the family with you?" 

"Only so-so. Usual suburban 
troubles. Servants won't stay so 
far out; tradesmen object to deliver- 
ing goods in the country; cars break 
down, etc. What's pleasing you so? 
Made a lucky deal to-day?" 

Holcombe's face wore an ecstatic 
look. He was fingering a little 
scratch on his chin with one hand. 
He leaned his head towards Weath- 
erly's ear. 

"Say, Bob, do you remember that 
Irish girl, Katie Flynn, that was 
with the Spaffords so long a time?" 

"I've heard of her," said Weath- 
erly. "They say she stayed a year 
with them without a single day off. 
But I don't believe any fairy story 
like that." 

"'Twas a fact. Well, I engaged 



STRUGGLE OF OUTLIERS 

her to-day for a cook. She's going 
out to the house to-morrow." 

"Confound you for a lucky dog/' 
shouted Weatherly, with envy in his 
tones and his heart, "and you live 
four blocks further out than we do!" 



THE END 



89 



THIS VOLUME WAS PRINTED BY 
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS 
GARDEN CITY, LONG ISLAND, N. Y. 
THE PRINTING WAS COMPLETED 
IN THE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER 
MCMXX 







V£C 






